


Ties like Blood

by page_of_wands



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bilingual Lance, Keith Believes In Mothman, M/M, Meeting the Family, One Shot, Orphan Keith, Pet Names, Shiro's mentioned - Freeform, broganes, gangster au but it's lowkey, keith's nervous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 20:10:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20069869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/page_of_wands/pseuds/page_of_wands
Summary: keith is meeting lance's family for the first time





	Ties like Blood

**Author's Note:**

> the inspiration for this was just me wanting more gangster au fics. then it kind of devolved into a cute relationship moment for klance. but hey, who says you can't have both

Keith couldn’t sit still. His leg bounced restlessly, and it obviously wasn’t escaping Lance’s notice, since he kept glancing over to him.

“Keep your eyes on the road,” Keith ordered. “You don’t want to miss your family dinner because you landed us both in the hospital.”

“I’m not going to land us in the hospital,” Lance rolled his eyes. “See: we’re already here.” Indeed, the car rolled to a stop as Lance parked against the curb. A warmly-lit house was sitting at the end of a rolling driveway, and Keith stared at it like it was Godzilla on the horizon.

“Keith,” Lance said softly, and when that didn’t call Keith’s attention away from his imminent doom, he reached out and gently took Keith’s face into his hands. “You have nothing to be worried about,” he insisted.

“I’m not worried,” Keith said immediately. “I’m totally fine.”

“Yeah, because _this—_” Lance laid a stilling hand on Keith’s knee “—is what _fine_ looks like.”

Keith looked at the looming house. “They’re your family,” he sighed. “I just want them to like me.”

“They’re going to _love_ you,” Lance promised. “Seriously, I talk you up to them all the time on the phone. Ronnie already thinks you’re the best thing since sliced bread.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve met Ronnie before,” he replied stubbornly. “As far as everyone else goes, one wrong look and no one ever hears from me again.” Lance scoffed.

“Please. Over my dead body,” he teased. Keith’s head swiveled to meet Lance’s gaze, the words _that’s not as reassuring as you think_ already on the tip of his tongue. “Listen,” Lance continued. “Their number one priority is for me to be happy, and you do that. They know that. Trust me, they’d be stupid to scare you away, and—” he huffed a laugh “—my family is anything but stupid. Okay?”

Keith’s worried purple eyes stared into Lance’s confident blue ones, and after he found whatever it was he was looking for, he sighed. “Okay.”

The calm lasted until he was standing on the front porch and Lance was reaching for the doorbell. Then Keith felt a wave of fresh panic and snatched Lance’s free hand. Lance turned to look fondly at Keith, who was staring resolutely at the door, and he swiftly kissed the back of Keith’s clasped hand.

The door opened.

Here were Keith’s fears, in descending order of relevance: that at the end of tonight’s dinner, the McClains will see him as nothing more than the emo rat Lance dragged out of the gutter for unknown reasons; that some disapproving family member was going to pull some strings behind the scenes that would lead to him actually dying in a gutter in a few weeks’ time; that a family member of the same views would talk some sense into Lance and he’d dump Keith without a second thought; that Keith would someday see Mothman in the flesh but no one would believe him. (Although that last one didn’t necessarily have to do with any of the McClains.)(At least, as far as Keith knew.)

The first thing he saw when the door opened, however, was not the face of some disapproving family member, but rather a swarm of two small children.

“Heyyyyy, Sylvio, Nadia: my favorite niece _and_ nephew!” Lance reacted quickly, picking them up and swinging one under each arm. They giggled as he lumbered his way through the doorway. Keith followed in his wake, carefully shutting the door behind him.

“Uncle Lance is here!” the one Keith assumed to be Sylvio hollered.

Keith jumped as someone he didn’t see standing by the door touched his arm. “It’s so nice to meet you, Keith,” the woman grinned. She had curly black hair and the same smile lines he could see Lance having in a few years. He gave her a weak smile in response.

“Hey.”

A yell from the kitchen cut off their short-lived conversation, much to Keith’s relief. “_Dinner’s ready!_” The call reverberated through the house, and footsteps sounded from the upstairs.

“C’mon,” Lance urged, appearing at Keith’s side and tugging on his hand. “We don’t want to be last in line.”

The kitchen was, as the rest of the house seemed to be, not very large. Food was lined up along counters, and Keith and Lance took their place in an assembly line of sorts. There was a long table set up in the next room, and at the end there was a shorter, more square-shaped table: the kids’ table. Sylvio and Nadia were already sitting there, but there was room for two more.

“Are we at the kids’ table?” Keith muttered to Lance’s shoulder. Lance laughed.

“Nah, those are for Marco and Lisa,” he replied. _Their parents: Lance’s brother and sister-in-law,_ Keith mentally identified. “Unfortunately for you, we’re sitting with the adults.”

Keith frowned petulantly at Lance’s unwavering grin, and Lance merely pecked his temple and returned to filling up his plate.

“Hey Keith,” a familiar voice said from behind him. He turned to see Veronica smirking at him.

“Ronnie,” he greeted with a nod. “How’s your new district going?” The McClains had just added a new sector to their territory, and it was her first time running a neighborhood on her own.

“Just swell,” she replied, pride glinting in her eye. “How’s being Lance’s housewife going?”

“Excuse me,” Lance interrupted, “this is a healthy, balanced relationship, and Keith and I are on equal terms, and that was a sexist—”

“It’s great,” Keith cut him off. Lance gaped at him, and Keith lightly kicked him. “Keep moving, would you, I want to get to the yucca sometime tonight,” he teased.

Eventually they made it to the table, where Keith sat next to Lance and across from Veronica. The woman from earlier (Lance’s mother) was next to Ronnie, and Lance’s father, at the head of the table, cut an imposing figure. The other three seats to his right were occupied by Luis and two grandparents, all of whom Keith had never met before.

“So Keith,” Lance’s mother began as everyone dug in and sounds of silverware on plates filled the room. _Let the interrogation begin,_ Keith thought grimly. “How has Lance been treating you?”

“I take offense to that,” Lance interjected, and Keith smirked slightly.

“He’s been a perfect gentleman,” he said honestly.

“How much is he paying you to say that?” Veronica asked. Lance kicked her, and a small scuffle could be heard from under the table.

“How did you two meet?” his grandmother asked.

“In a bar,” Keith said, and bit his lip; he didn’t know how in depth Lance wanted him to go with the story.

Lance didn’t let him wonder for long, though. “Keith was the bartender,” he explained, with something like pride. Then he bitterly continued, “He watched me make a fool of myself in front of some girls, and then called me a cab when I clearly wasn’t getting anywhere.”

“I called you a cab because you were drunk,” Keith corrected amusedly.

“Didn’t stop me from putting the moves on you, though,” Lance winked at him. Keith coughed and refrained from saying that he’d thought in the state Lance had been in, maybe the ponytail had thrown him off and he’d mistaken Keith for another girl.

“How…romantic,” his grandmother tried, and Veronica snorted.

“Do you still work there?” his mother inquired politely.

“Yes,” Lance replied exasperatedly in his place. “Even though I’ve _tried_ telling him that he doesn’t need to anymore.”

“Hey, maybe mixology is my passion,” Keith teased, and Lance rolled his eyes.

“I’ve lost count of how many times you’ve come home and complained about mopping up puke off the bathroom floor,” he pointed out. “Cariño, you _know_ I can support the both of us, no problem.” Keith flushed at the pet name.

“Does Keith know about your…profession?” Lance’s father asked, the first thing he’d said all evening. His face was stern, carefully composed.

“I know all about the family business,” Keith answered, meeting his eyes without hesitation.

“Everything,” Lance added with a slight nod.

“And you’re not scared off?” Luis spoke up. He seemed genuinely intrigued.

Keith considered the question; he had the feeling his response would definitely shape how they saw him. He could also feel Lance holding back, waiting to hear what he’d say.

“No,” he said eventually. “I’ve never been scared _by_ Lance. Mostly just _for_ him, if he goes out and I don’t know if he’s coming back.” He turned to look at Lance, who had a strange expression on his face that Keith had never seen before. “But you know, it’s probably a good thing he didn’t lead with that—not really good first date material,” Keith joked, and the mood broke.

“And what does your family do?” his father asked. Keith’s smile dropped from his face.

“My brother’s studying to be a doctor,” he offered. “He’s completing his residency now.”

“And your parents?” Lance was shaking his head at his father, either unseen or ignored.

“I don’t, uh, have any.” All eyes were on him, even Veronica’s, and Keith stared at his plate as he pushed a green bean around his plate. “Dad died when I was young, and my mom was never really around.”

“I told you about Shiro, didn’t I?” Lance asked, and Keith shot him a grateful look. “He’s the one who patched me up after the Gonzalez incident.” The night Lance showed up to Keith’s apartment (before they moved in together) with a hole in his side and a gun missing three bullets. Keith had immediately called Shiro and stashed the gun under the sink, and told him Lance had been the unlucky victim of a drive-by so he wouldn’t ask too many questions or get too involved.

“Seems like we have a lot to thank Shiro for,” Lance’s mother picked up the conversation.

“Indeed,” his father rumbled. “Is Gonzalez—”

“It’s taken care of,” Lance promised.

“But—”

“It’s _taken care of_, Dad,” Lance repeated. “Trust me.”

“Am I not allowed to have a stake in my son’s well-being?” his father demanded.

“Here we go,” Veronica muttered.

“Either trust me to look after myself or don’t, but don’t play this back and forth game,” Lance replied hotly. His father resorted to rapid fire Spanish, which Keith didn’t understand, but everyone else certainly did. “Me?” Lance arched an eyebrow. “The only one embarrassing themselves here is—”

“Lance,” his mother snapped. “Julio,” she added, with a stern look in Lance’s father’s direction. “Now is not the time or place for this conversation. If you’d like to take this to your office, go right ahead, but this table? Is for dining and _civil_ conversations only. Preferably in English,” she added with a gracious smile in Keith’s direction.

“Or Lance will just spend the car ride home translating,” Veronica added.

Lance’s mother opened her mouth in dismay. “Oh, tell me you’re not planning on driving back after dinner,” she objected. “It’s so late; you should really just stay the night.”

“What, are they going to sleep on the couch?” Luis smirked. “Because _I’m_ certainly not giving up my room.”

“Of course not,” his mother waved a careless hand. “Sylvio and Nadia can sleep in their parents’ room and Lance can have his old room back.”

Keith perked up, intrigued by the prospect of seeing Lance’s childhood room. “Sounds good to me,” he agreed readily, turning to gauge Lance’s reaction. “What do you think, babe?”

Pet names weren’t really Keith’s thing, but he knew Lance liked it, and sure enough, it snapped him out of whatever he was still stewing on. “Yeah,” Lance said a little dazedly, “I’m cool if you are.”

“Great,” Veronica announced, and stood up. “What’s for dessert?”

As the rest of the table started getting up, Keith reached for Lance’s hand under the table. “You okay?” he asked quietly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lance’s father leave the room.

Lance smiled. “Of course,” he lied. “C’mon, you don’t want to miss out on Mamá’s world famous rice pudding.” Keith let himself be pulled up out of his seat, following Lance back into the kitchen.

-

The rest of dinner passed by pleasantly and without incident, either because or in spite of the fact that Lance’s father never made a reappearance. Luis and Keith bonded over motorcycles, and Lance only barely talked his mother out of busting out the baby pictures.

“I bet you were a cute baby,” Keith said, once they were upstairs in Lance’s room.

“Excuse you, I was an _adorable_ baby,” Lance corrected from where he was washing his face in the adjoining bathroom. “That doesn’t mean we need to relive every one of my phases.”

_Phases_, Keith thought gleefully, and made a mental note to ask Veronica about that later. “Where does that bathroom go?” Keith asked instead.

“What, this?” Lance knocked on the opposite door. “Luis’ room. Luckily, he’s busy putting Nadia and Sylvio to bed right now so Marco and Lisa can kick back and have a glass of wine.”

Keith thought about them and Veronica and Lance’s mother and grandparents sitting at the kitchen table together. “Do you think they’re talking about us?” he wondered, already pretty certain of the answer.

“Probably,” Lance admitted. “But who cares? I thought tonight went great.” He dried off his face and came back into the room, landing on the bed with enough force to make Keith bounce.

“Really?” he raised an eyebrow. “The dead parents thing didn’t throw them off?”

“Pfft,” Lance snorted. “If anything, that just makes them want to adopt you into the family.”

“Ew.”

“Hey!”

“Then we’d be foster brothers,” Keith pointed out.

“So? It’s not like we’d _actually_ be related.” Lance rolled his eyes. “Besides, then we’d get to live with each other.”

“We _already_ live with each other, you dork,” Keith grinned.

“Hmm,” Lance replied, and closed his eyes.

Keith took the opportunity to survey Lance’s bedroom unobserved. There were glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to the ceiling, which didn’t surprise him at all, and a NASA poster on the closet door. (Actually, Lance still had a T-shirt with the same logo design.) What Keith _was_ surprised to see was a poster of a surfer above the desk.

“Do you surf?” he asked. Lance cracked open an eye and followed Keith’s gaze to the poster he was looking at.

“Yeah. Well, I used to—probably suck at it now. But I put that up because of the beach, not the surfer,” he explained. “Veradero: it’s the most beautiful place on the planet. I should take you to see it sometime.”

Keith had never been to a beach; they didn’t really seem like his thing. He didn’t know how to swim, coming from the middle of a desert, and it was far too easy to get burned, even from under several layers of sunscreen. But it seemed exactly like the kind of place where Lance would thrive.

“Hey, Keith,” Lance said, interrupting his reverie. Keith blinked at him. “Do you really worry about me? When I leave?”

_Oh_. Keith thought about the face Lance had made at dinner.

“Of course I do,” Keith replied blankly. “I don’t know where you’re going, who you’re meeting, what’s going down. I mean, of course I trust you, and you can do what you want, but—what happens if you get shot?” he demanded. “And you can’t get to me or Shiro, and it’s not like a hospital’s in the picture, and you bleed out in some alley—how would I ever know? It’s not like anyone would _tell_ me—”

“—Keith—”

“—and I don’t know if it’s worse when you take your gun or leave it behind. Because at least then I know you’re prepared and can defend yourself, but that also means something dangerous is happening, and sometimes you leave without any _backup_, which is never a good thing—”

“—_Keith_—”

“—and you know I never _say_ anything, because you know, maybe the gun’s just for show and it’s just going to be a conversation and I’m overreacting. Or maybe it’s not, and the last thing you need in the middle of some dangerous negotiation is to be distracted thinking about me losing my mind back in the apartment; the last thing I _ever_ want you to be is _distracted_—”

“—Keith, seriously, _breathe_.” Lance’s face at this point was twisted with concern, and Keith had to close his eyes and take a shuddering breath. “Come on, lay down,” Lance urged suddenly, gently pushing Keith over and arranging the two of them so all of his limbs were wrapped around Keith like some kind of affectionate octopus, squeezing him tightly enough so that falling apart wasn’t an option.

“Sorry,” Keith muttered into Lance’s collarbone.

“Sorry?” Lance repeated, and he could feel the vibrations coming from his chest. “Amor, no, I wish you’d told me _sooner_.”

“But it’s not like anything’s going to change,” he argued. “I’m not crazy enough to ask you to give up your district; I know how hard you worked for it. Now you just know how crazy I am.” The last bit was mumbled, and Lance almost didn’t catch the tail end of it.

He planted a kiss on the top of Keith’s head. “Your crazy makes perfect sense,” he quietly assured him. “You’re right, I’m not giving up my district. But this whole time I’ve been trying to keep you far away from my work life,” Lance admitted. “I thought you’d be safer, I thought you wouldn’t even want to know, I thought—” he broke off with a sigh. “I thought a lot of things,” he muttered.

“You thought you’d scare me off?”

“Something like that.”

Keith tilted his head back to be able to look at Lance properly; his face looked tired and his eyes looked sad. “You’re not going to scare me off,” he promised. “And I’d much rather know than not know.”

Lance’s eyebrows furrowed in thought. “You know,” he said pensively, “when Mamá was getting married, she had two conditions for Papá: that she didn’t want to know anything about what he did for a living, and that their kids could grow up outside of the influence of all his gang politics.”

“How did that turn out?”

“The first part worked out fine, I guess,” Lance shrugged. “They don’t have the best communication, but they knew going in that there would be secrets.”

“And the second part?”

“That was a fool’s bargain to begin with.” Lance huffed a laugh: “To think that we’d grow up completely ignorant of what was going on around us was wishful thinking. Every time we’d go out for groceries, he’d say, _stay away from that neighborhood, niño_, and every weekend it was a different neighborhood.”

“It worked out for Marco and Lisa,” Keith pointed out. “They got out.”

“Yeah, and me and Veronica both ended up in the same place anyway.” Lance chewed on his lip. “Although it was our choice. I guess Mamá’s bargain worked out after all.”

With his index finger, Lance was working small circles into Keith’s back, and he was slowly relaxing at the sensation. “I don’t want us to have secrets,” Keith whispered.

Lance kissed the top of his head again. “Okay,” he said simply. “I don’t want you to worry about me.” Keith made a sleepy but skeptical noise.

“I reserve my right to worry,” he insisted. Lance laughed lightly.

“Of course you do.”

Steps sounded from down the hall. They heard the other door to the bathroom open and the water turn on, and were asleep by the time Luis finished brushing his teeth.

And if Luis peeked in and snapped a picture of them sleeping, neither of them were any the wiser.


End file.
